In Which Chloe's Jeans are Worth Every Penny
by JibbityJibJob
Summary: "Beca manages to stop her fumbling long enough to notice that Chloe is definitely not complaining about the lack of handular motion, that she is, in fact, slack-jawed and furrow-browed, concentrating on something Beca is altogether unaware of having any part in." A short oneshot of the Bechloe variety.


Her jeans are so fucking tight that they're actually impeding her range of motion, and she can't _get her knees up_ , and it's so frustrating until– _Oh!_ There's a sudden jolt of pleasure when she jerks her knees up and towards her chest. So wholly unexpected that it cuts right through her frustration and sticks in her lungs as a hitch in her breath. _Do that again_. And she does. And it feels so good. She has no idea what's touching her where, but it should _not_ stop.

"Babe. Pants off." Beca's fingers are fumbling with the waistband of Chloe's jeans, trying to get the right combination of angle and tug that will free her from denim constraints.

All Chloe can do is pull Beca in tighter and gasp out a " _No!_ " as she draws her legs back again.

"No? These things are so tight, I can't even move my hand." And then Beca manages to stop her fumbling long enough to notice that Chloe is definitely _not_ complaining about the lack of handular motion, that she is, in fact, slack-jawed and furrow-browed, concentrating on something Beca is altogether unaware of having any part in.

She shifts her weight back to try to see what's going on down there, but Chloe's low groan of protest and clutching hands abort that mission before it's even really begun.

"Stay. Don't move." Chloe's hips are thrusting up against Beca's trapped hand (which feels kind of useless without an active role to play), and her legs are spread wide, bracketing Beca's own hips. She's licking her lips and doing that thing with her jaw and her eyebrows that makes her look like she's desperately trying to grab something just beyond her reach. Something sweet and furious and vital to her continued existence.

Beca, well-versed in Chloe's many _this feels good, don't change anything_ faces, holds herself still. Her right arm is going to start shaking any second now, holding all of her weight as it is, but, dammit, she's gonna do exactly what Chloe tells her to do. Because Chloe is some kind of wonderful, and whenever Beca has the chance to simply watch her find her way to the highest of highs, well, she'd be a fool not to try to memorize every detail.

"Bec. Bec." It's whispered, no, _exhaled_ , and it takes Beca a second to realize Chloe's even trying to talk to her. She hums in response.

"I need you."

Like a jab to the chest, every time Chloe says something like that. An amazingly hot jab to the chest.

"I'm right here." And she is. Beca is _right there_ , holding still, resisting the mind-bending urge to move with, for, against her girlfriend, trying not to do anything other than exist and keep her hand exactly where it is. It could be important. Chloe thinks it is. Maybe her immobile hand (which is a currently a weird combination of numb and on fire) is what has Chloe's eyelids fluttering and her breath coming out in shaky puffs.

"Kiss me." And her head is lifting off the bed to fit her mouth against Beca's, and Beca takes this to mean that she can move, if only from the wrist up.

"Move–" Chloe breaks off with a moan and an offbeat jerk of her hips. She swallows hard. "Move your hand. Put it–" she's out of breath, so she pushes her own hand down between their bodies to grip Beca's through her jeans, to push it exactly where she needs it to be.

Space has opened up, and Beca can feel the warm rush of life returning to her fingers. She swallows the soft gasps and moans that are flowing freely from Chloe's mouth, then trails her lips across a sharp jawline and down a straining neck.

"Just–"

Beca moves her fingers slowly.

" _There!_ " Fingers dig into her back, and Beca relishes the dull pain.

Chloe's jerking hips have shifted gear, settling into a hard grind that has Beca using her own hips to bear down, to apply as much pressure and provide as much delicious friction as she can manage.

Chloe's hands drop to the bed, and Beca knows she's close when she feels the sheets tugging under her knees as Chloe anchors herself.

And then Beca's watching her girlfriend rolling her head from left to right and biting her lip, and they're both pushing and pressing and gripping until Chloe goes rigid and takes a last half-gasp of air before she's holding her breath and arching upwards as much as the current position of their bodies will allow.

Beca keeps her fingers moving throughout, enjoying the feel of Chloe shuddering beneath her, and then Chloe's legs aren't so widely spread anymore. They're clamped around Beca, and her hips are moving in small circles as she pulls every last bit of everything she can from the final waves of her orgasm.

Chloe takes a few slow, deep breaths and brings her hands up to Beca's shoulders. "Babe. _Babe_."

Beca just nods along. "Babe."

Their eyes are locked and Chloe's somehow managing to fight the grin that's threatening to take over her face. Until she fails. And laughs through her endorphin-induced haze. Beca rolls to the side and presses her lips against the side of Chloe's neck. "That worked out okay, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

"I mean aside from my hand almost dying from lack of blood flow."

Chloe gives Beca's hair a gentle tug. "A noble sacrifice."

"Dude, that's my mixing hand!"

"' _Dude!_ '" There's a mocking jab to her ribs. "It's a good hand. Very talented. _Skilled_." Dancing eyebrows accompany this very serious announcement.

Beca squints. "It is. So..." she pokes at Chloe's mouth. "Can we do me now?"

"Definitely."


End file.
